


Across a Crowded Room

by Sadisticsparkle (sadisticsparkle)



Category: Marvel Noir
Genre: 1930s, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Meetings, M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28265316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadisticsparkle/pseuds/Sadisticsparkle
Summary: Steve Rogers is on his first mission after Project Rebirth. It's a simple one: meet Byron Ironsides, give him files, go back to hotel.But it gets a bit more complicated.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 18
Kudos: 26
Collections: 2020 Captain America/Iron Man Holiday Exchange





	Across a Crowded Room

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lets_call_me_Lily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lets_call_me_Lily/gifts).



> "Byron Ironsides" and the cabaret are both canon!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, Lets_call_me_Lily :D

As the wind raged through the empty street and chilled him down to his bones, Steve burrowed into his jacket and hurried his pace. He was near the rendezvous point — or at least he thought he was. They had said his memory was supposed to be eidetic now. Anything he saw would become a snapshot of reality engraved in his brain, without any effort on his part. So far they seemed to be right, but it was still odd to trust his memory that much. He kept walking, following the map in his head across a city he had never been in before.

This would be his first mission. He couldn’t ruin it or Fury would have his hide. It was simple enough: meet contact, pass him the files, leave the place, return to his sad hotel room, await further orders. Not what he had imagined when he joined Project Rebirth, but he’d prove himself to Fury. He knew it.

He was close. Yes, that was the sign Fury had shown him — a closed eyeglass shop. Odd. He knocked on the door and waited. One deep breath. Two deep breaths. Had he gotten it wrong? No. It couldn’t be… could it? He could turn back. Go check the map again. No, that’d take too much time…

The door swung open and three people came out. Steve stepped aside and before the door closed, he stepped inside. The shop was empty save for a hulking guard and a metal door. He heard the music even before he pushed the door open: loud, rickety, almost unrecognizable. He went down a flight of stairs, smelling cigars, alcohol, vomit, and sex. His face flushed red but he pushed through his embarrassment. He had a job to do.

Then he stepped into a pandemonium: young people with short dresses and long eyelashes draped around men twice their age, women with short bobs laughing while they clinked their glasses, an orchestra playing as if they were on a sinking ship, and in the middle of it all, Tony Stark.

It couldn’t be anybody else. He’d know: he had copied each cover of Marvels and masturbated to half of them. Tony Stark had been the handsome, irresistible face of all the desires Steve had spent his teenage years burying deep inside him.

And now he was there, in the middle of a cabaret in Berlin. His hand curled around a glass of whiskey and his body shook with laughter. Everybody’s eyes were on him. How could Steve look away? A girl next to him patted him on the back. ‘You shouldn’t stare,’ she said, with a short bob of curly red hair and a face so pretty cheap make-up and exhaustion couldn’t dim it.

‘I’m not…’

She waved her hand. ‘Don’t lie. Everybody stares at the boss.’

‘He’s… the boss?’

‘Ah. So you _were_ staring? Don’t say anything, don’t say anything. Everybody stares at Byron Ironsides!’

That was the least subtle codename he had ever heard. He couldn’t help but be charmed by it. ‘Well, if he insists on being called that…’

‘Oh, I think it fits,’ the girl said and then pushed him forward. ‘Go say hi!’

He nodded. Fury had said he’d know his contact when he saw him, and it was obvious now why. Steve had thought it’d be a more… quiet situation, not a packed speakeasy full of drunks and worse. Maybe there was a method to the madness. Or maybe Tony Stark just couldn’t do things the quiet way.

He cut across the crowd and it wasn’t until he crashed into Tony Stark — sorry, Byron Ironsides — that he realized that he didn’t know what to do. There was no need to worry, though, because Stark smiled at him and put his hand around on his shoulder.

‘Welcome, welcome. I always love seeing a new face. Especially a pretty one.’

Steve’s brain melted. He looked around. Was T… Stark really talking to him? He hunched and looked at his shoes. The floor could use some mopping…

‘Aren’t you going to say hello?’

He looked up. Stark was leaning towards him. ‘… Hello.’

Stark raised his eyebrows. ‘Eloquent.’

He flushed again. A phrase floated across his mind… ‘My uncle said I couldn’t leave Berlin without trying out the nightlife.’

Stark’s eyes flashed and his grin deepened. So he _was_ the contact, then. ‘It’s not what it used to be ten years ago, but nobody’s willing to leave the party yet.’

That was the code. Steve’s shoulders relaxed. He hadn’t ruined it, not yet. Stark hooked his arm around Steve’s waist and dragged him to the bar. The bartender, a man with an impressive mustache, pushed two glasses towards them. He didn’t spare them another glance.

‘So, what’s your name? Where are you from? What brings you to my fancy establishment?’

Steve took a sip of his drink. It was a lot to take in: the loud noises, the mission, the two first buttons of Stark’s shirt already opened… ‘It’s yours?’

‘Answer my questions and then I’ll answer yours.’

‘I… My name is Roger Stevens. I’m from… Maine. I’m here on business. My uncle sent me to talk to some… associates of him.’

He had to learn how to sound more natural when he dropped his fake backstories. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for spy work. Why couldn’t he just punch Nazis and be done with it?

‘And you’re going to waste his money on girls and booze?’

Steve glanced at the dancing floor. There were girls flirting with men, but that wasn’t the whole story: a woman was swaying with a shorter woman in his arms and he was pretty sure the couple in the darkest corner of the room were two men. Everybody knew why people came to Berlin instead of Paris. Or why they used to.

‘Not… exactly.’

Stark licked his lips. Steve downed the rest of the whiskey in one go.

Stark leaned closer but before he could whisper something in his ear, somebody coughed loudly behind Steve. He flinched and moved away from Stark. This was just a distraction. Mind on the job, he had to keep his mind on the job. He looked over his shoulder: a tall blond man was sneering at them. Stark’s eyes narrowed and his smile became a thin taut line.

‘Tiberius. What a surprise to see you here.’

Tiberius. Right. That had to be Tiberius Stone, a self-styled captain of industry Steve privately thought was more like a snake-oil seller. He’d have to report it to Fury. This couldn’t be a coincidence.

‘Your friend here is not the only one with business interests in Germany, _Byron_.’

‘There are always opportunities to be had when there’s a storm coming. That was it, right? Your motto.’

There was history here, and not the fun kind. Or maybe the kind of history that starts just fine and then sours. Stone took Tony’s untouched glass of whiskey.

‘It’s an unfortunate truth of business. If this is about business at all.’

‘I’m just an enterprising man, running a… almost legitimate business,’ Stark said and put a hand on top of Steve’s. ‘And I was in the middle of a pleasant conversation I want to get back to.’

‘What a coincidence. Just two random Americans meeting in Berlin.’

Steve couldn’t bite his tongue anymore. ‘Well, yes. Now _three_ Americans, that’s what I’d call odd.’

‘Oh, he speaks. Where is this uncle from, then?’

Before Steve could speak, Stark sighed. ‘Fine. You caught us. It’s not about business.’ What? Was he selling Steve out? Stark put his arm around Steve’s waist. ‘Steve’s a… friend.’

‘And you’re interrupting,’ Steve said, leaning his head on Stark’s shoulder. Stark flinched, but Steve was sure he had been the only one who had noticed.

‘I only came here to drink,’ Stone said.

‘It’s on the house. Now, if you excuse us…’

When they got to the dance floor, Steve threw his arms around Stark’s neck. They had to be convincing. If Steve was going to do this, he was going to go the whole nine yards. They danced to the music — Steve could barely hear it over the sound of Stark’s voice — and pretended to chat. Steve remembered to laugh once or twice even if he couldn’t quite breathe. Stark’s hands slid down the sides of his body and settled on his waist. It wouldn’t be so bad if they went a few inches down… He was so busy pretending to be cool, pretending he didn’t want to run away screaming and then come back and kiss Stark, that he didn’t notice they were so close to the wall until Stark pushed him against it.

His eyes widened but he didn’t get to protest: Stark’s lips were on his and then everything was confusion. He closed his eyes and then opened them and then closed them again. Stark’s chest was pressed against his and Stark was pushing one knee between Steve’s legs. His hands were deftly opening his shirt. When Stark’s cold fingers ghosted over Steve’s nipples, Steve realized what he was doing: searching for the files. He put his arms around Stark’s shoulders and cut the kiss short. Instead, he nuzzled him. Stark’s neck smelled as musky as he had always imagined.

’To your right…’ he whispered.

Stark’s fingers quickly found the files… Perhaps it would have been better to just let him search for them… Steve moved around a bit until the files were inside Stark’s jacket.

But they didn’t stop kissing.

It’d be suspicious if they did.

Steve lost count of how many songs the band played. Yet they kept kissing and nuzzling and touching. His entire body burned and he was pretty sure Stark had noticed how hard Steve was, but he didn’t want to stop.

It wasn’t until his lips were sore that they stopped. Stark was smirking and Steve was dazed.

‘Fury told me I had to make contact with you…’

‘I’d say you did.’

Steve laughed, embarrassed like a schoolboy. ‘I…’

‘Next time, I’ll contact you,’ Stark said, caressing Steve’s cheek. ‘I have my ways,’ Stark said.

‘And… wouldn’t it be suspicious?’

‘We have damn good cover if I say so myself.’

Steve looked aside and remained silent. Was this even happening? It had to be a dream. Stark kissed his neck and Steve relaxed. If it was a dream, he didn’t give a damn.

‘You know. If I’m going to be visiting you at your hotel, we better make sure it looks convincing.’

‘I… I told… Fury’s waiting.’

‘I think I’m way better company than Fury… but I get it.’ Stark leaned forward and kissed him one last time. ‘Until next time.’

The night was still cold and the wind was still cutting, but for Steve, it was as warm and bright as a spring afternoon. Star… Tony had promised to visit him the next day.

He couldn’t wait.


End file.
